


Appetite

by masulevin



Series: Say You Won't Let Go [6]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: A Bit of Food Play, Bathing/Washing, Biotics (Mass Effect), Body Worship, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foot Jobs, Grinding, Intercrural Sex, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Pregnant Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Spanking, Spooning, Teasing, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vacation, Vaginal Fingering, but just like in the course of teasing it's not weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: James Vega fully intends on getting Avery Ryder to Rio during one of his breaks from N-school for a vacation. Some surprise news isn't going to change that.
Relationships: Female Ryder | Sara/James Vega
Series: Say You Won't Let Go [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1050986
Comments: 35
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do you remember when this was just supposed to be a smutty one-shot?
> 
> ...me neither.
> 
>  _I don't bite, but I heard you might_  
>  _So let me feed your appetite._  
>  “Puppeteer” by MAX

Avery’s halfway through her third reading of an article her doctor gave her about why the new synthetic DNA that had been found mixed with most humans after the end of the Reaper War had made the most popular contraceptive implants less effective when her omnitool chimes with James’ special chime. She jumps and drops the datapad. It clatters to the floor and Jonesy opens one eye to glare at her from where he’s napping on the other chair.

The orange interface pops up when she lifts her wrist to display James’ message: _I found the perfect hotel for when you visit! Dec 30-Jan 5 still good??_

Oh, James. She’s going to have to tell him before January. It's a few months away, but… she's going to have to tell him.

Another message comes through as she’s considering the first. _I know you’ve been sick so thought I’d cheer you up._ And then: _Whatdid the doctor say?_

She closes her omnitool without replying. She can’t talk to him right now. She can’t. She needs to talk this out before she brings him into it, needs to weigh her options and have… she needs help. She would have talked to her mom about all this, before, would have called her up when she first felt sick and gotten a ride to the doctor and then had someone to comfort her when she wanted to cry after.

Every unsafe encounter they had plays out behind her eyelids, in vivid detail: the broken condom, the drunken fuck behind Sam’s house, the sober but ill-advised condom-free sex the rest of the weekend before he shipped out.

One of those times did it.

They’re not goddamn teenagers. This was stupid, and they should have known better. There’s not any fucking excuse for this.

Her omnitool vibrates as James calls her, and she answers out of habit before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Hey, birdie!” His voice is optimistic, almost aggressively so, and she realizes he’s probably convinced she’s dying and doesn’t want to tell him. “You home yet?”

“Yeah, I’m home,” she says, and then… shit.

She chokes on a sob as her vision starts to swim, and she claps a hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise that will out her reaction to James.

It doesn’t work.

“What’s wrong?” His response is immediate, his voice low and comforting, and when she doesn’t respond right away she hears him shuffling around over the audio connection. He says something she can’t hear to someone she can’t see, then a door clicks closed and he’s speaking to her again, “Talk to me, Avery. What did the doctor say?”

She clears her throat and wipes at her eyes. “I, uh. I’m pregnant.”

His response is slower this time. It gives her enough time to take a few gasping breaths and for Jonesy to drag himself away from the sun and drape himself over her lap instead, a spot of comfort for the human who took him in after the reapers left.

“What?”

“Yeah, uh… I guess I’m due at the beginning of June.”

She can hear him sighing over the connection, a long exhale that makes her eyes well with more tears. She didn’t mean for this to happen, she thought she was preventing it, even if she wasn’t being _as careful_ as she should have been.

“Birdie,” he says, still kind of sighing, “I thought you were going to tell me something awful.”

“I wouldn’t say this is _great_ news.”

“But you’re okay, you’re not sick.” There’s more shuffling from his end of the line, more mysterious noises she can’t put a name to since he’s on the other side of the planet. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, miserable, voice on the edge of cracking again.

“It isn’t your fault—”

“It kinda is, though.” Avery’s not ready to let it go, but James doesn’t seem to be either.

“If anyone’s to blame,” he interrupts, voice a little louder to get her attention before it returns to the lower, more serious tone he’s been using, “it’s me. I wasn’t being careful, and I’m sorry.”

Avery groans and pulls Jonesy up to press her face into his fur. He chirps a little and lets her, starting to purr under her attention. “We can do this all day. I know, I know we said we’re going to try the whole long-distance boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but… this isn’t something we talked about, and I’m not asking you for anything. I don’t want you to feel, like, trapped or anything.”

“We did talk about it.” James doesn’t quite cut her off again, but it’s a near thing, and her temper starts to spark and then fades right away at his words. “You told me you wanted a family, and I said we’d make beautiful babies, and then we started making out on your sink.”

“That’s not really, that’s not really _talking_ about it,” she protests, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks at the memory. “Not, like, ‘what if this happens this weekend,’ talking about it, it was more like ‘generally in the future we have this in common.’ Right?”

“Sure, but…” He trails off, muffles a groan, starts again. “I told you before, I’m not Alec. You don’t have to doubt me. I know this is, uh, way sooner than we thought it would be, but if you’re in this, I’m in this. All the way.”

Avery starts crying again, quietly this time. She hadn’t really had enough time to think about how James would react, but this is more than she could have hoped for. He doesn’t even sound worried or scared or any of the other emotions that have been swirling around in her mind since she found out.

He just sounds… supportive.

Here for her.

No matter what.

“If you still can, I still want you to visit in January. I found a great little house on the beach, it’s new construction obviously, but it’s in the old style. You’ll love it.”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “January?”

“Yeah, birdie.” He sounds hopeful now, more relaxed, and she smiles despite herself. “It’ll be nice and hot, and I have a few days off between training. It’ll be perfect. Just the… just the three of us.”

She laughs, just a little, and James does too.

“Come on, we’re in this together, right? I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A pause, as she considers, tries to figure out how pregnant she’ll be in January, decides it’s probably okay. “I’ll come see you.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says, and she can _hear_ the smile in his voice, can picture it so clearly in her mind. “I can’t wait.”

And, despite the tears still threatening to come back, she can’t either.

—-

James is fucking terrified. He’d never ever tell Avery that in a million years, absolutely unwilling to freak her out or make her worry for even a second that he’s going to leave her or treat their baby like Alec treated her, but he’s terrified about the future.

Sam gets an earful about it every time he comes up with a new concern, and she calms him down or calls him an idiot, depending on what the problem is, at least once a week. With her on his side, he’s able to listen to Avery’s worries and excitement (depending on where her mood has swung) and calm her down or gas her up, whatever she needs, whatever support he can offer her from the other side of the planet.

N-school is tough, and he’s exhausted so much of the time, and he misses her with every fiber of his being. He wants to be there with her right now, he wants to be home in her apartment, but every time he casually mentions putting off N-school for a year or two, she yells at him.

She’s not going to be the reason he puts off his dreams, even if his dreams are keeping them apart.

They’re starting a family at the worst possible time, and he can’t be with her, and he’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know it yet because he’s too much of a fucking coward to tell her.

He keeps trying, wants to tell her when they’re video chatting, staying up way too late to share their secrets; he wants to tell her every time she sends him an ultrasound, every time she sends him a picture of her belly as it grows (he still thinks it’s pretty small, even though she insists she already feels big), every time she sends him a dirty picture when he’s in class, and every time she smiles at him, flushed and happy, over a late-night vid call that ended in yet another round of phone sex.

He wants to tell her, but he’s a coward, and he’s afraid of her response, and anyway, shouldn’t that kind of confession be in person?

That’s what he’s been telling himself at least, and so he’s kept his mouth shut, and he’s fucking terrified because he’s going to be a dad and he’s in love with his girlfriend and he’s standing at the shuttleport with flowers clutched in sweaty hands because he wants to give her every good thing in the world.

He’s not prepared to see her being pushed in a wheelchair by a put-upon employee, looking absolutely murderous as she slouches with her shoulders up around her ears.

She catches his eyes and her face flashes as red as her hair, but she still points him out to the man pushing her. They change course and head straight for him, the employee looking at James with something like pity before he manages to smooth his expression back out into something politely neutral.

“What the — what happened?”

He looks from Avery to the man helping her and back, completely torn, flowers forgotten in his hands as he lowers them to his side.

Avery hauls in a deep breath. “You get a _little_ motion sick—”

“She passed out, sir,” the man says, obviously done with Avery’s bullshit if the interruption and somewhat dead expression in his eyes is any indication. “It’s company policy to assist ill passengers to either medical help or to their destinations.”

“Okay, uhh, thank you.” James stares at him for another minute before moving a little closer and offering Avery his free hand. She takes it with a mutinous expression and stands up mostly under her own power, stumbling a little before she’s fully upright. She flushes red again, this time, he thinks, in embarrassment. “Do you have — oh, thanks.” 

The man hands James a duffle bag and takes the wheelchair with him as he leaves, and James stands staring at Avery for several seconds before he manages to find his words.

“You passed out?”

She shrugs and avoids his eyes. “Just a little.”

“Birdie—”

“I just get motion sick _anyway_ and the baby makes it worse. I promise I’m okay. Hey.” She finally looks up and meets his eyes, reaches out and puts her hands on his waist. “I missed you.”

The little knot of terror and worry relaxes a little when he sees her smiling at him, a soft expression aimed at him, close enough to kiss… so he does, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers in the softest kiss he can manage as she tries to push herself closer and hold him in place with her fingers tugging at his shirt.

He forces himself back up to his full height and smiles widely at the little pout she gives him.

“C’mon, let’s go to the house. Here.” He hands her the flowers he brought with him, excitement briefly overwhelming the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. She smiles and gives the bouquet a tentative sniff before inhaling again, more deeply.

He waits for her to pass judgment — on the flowers, on him, on the trip in general — and he’s still staring at her when she opens her eyes and offers him a wide, bright smile. She looks more like her old self, the one he remembers from London, color coming back into her cheeks and something playful in her expression.

“Get moving, soldier. We have a vacation to start.”

He grins down at her and slings her duffle over his shoulder before taking her hand. She lets him pull her outside to flag down a taxi, then she snuggles up against his side and slips her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“I’m glad you could come.” He wraps his free arm around her shoulders and squeezes, and when she giggles, the noise is pressed against his ribs. He glances down and all he can see is one of her eyes as she peers up sideways at him.

“You’re going to be extra glad when you see what I brought.”

A taxi pulls up and the driver pops the trunk for her bag. James detangles himself from her, taking a second to enjoy the sight of her smirking at him with one hand resting on the bump that her shirt mostly hides.

“Oh? You bring something fun?”

She shrugs one shoulder and then somehow manages to look up at him from under her lashes without moving, and his heart does a funny little flip in his chest that has nothing to do with the promise written on her face and more to do with the confession he wants to make.

“A few things I think you’ll enjoy. You have to wait.”

He opens the door for her and snags a lingering kiss before she climbs in, swiping his tongue against her lower lip just to see the way it makes her eyes go dark and her lips part a bit.

 _Dios,_ she’s beautiful.

He loves her.

She climbs in the taxi with a wink, and he follows her without another word.

—-

He’s a little disappointed but not particularly surprised when she falls asleep on the way to their little rental house, her head tucked against his shoulder and her fingers tangled up in his like she never wants to let go.

She snores a little bit the whole way there, earning her several amused looks from the driver. James just keeps her hand tight in his and the warmth locked in his chest.

He can’t stop himself from smiling, though, not with her resting against him.

It almost makes him wish he hadn’t come to N-school at all.

She’s groggy when he wakes her up, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her mascara without noticing, and he ushers her into the rental without stopping to point out how close they are to the ocean, how private it is with the closely-growing foliage, or how he came out early and stocked the kitchen so they’d only have to go out in public if they want to. He just points her in the direction of the bed and takes off her shoes when she drops onto the blankets without undressing at all.

He putters around the house, looking for something to do to give her space. He puts the flowers in water, puts her bag up next to his, then eventually settles on the bed next to her with the datapad he wasn’t supposed to bring to work on reports for N-school he isn’t supposed to start until after she goes back to London.

He wonders if she’ll be willing to ask for a transfer to Brazil, or if she’ll want to stay in London where she has more friends, something of a support system for when he’s too busy or gone.

At least in London, she has Sam.

He decides he won’t ask.

At some point, she rolls over and shifts higher up the bed, opening one eye to stare at him like she’s not sure who he is or why he’s in her bed, then she blinks and a slow smile stretches across her face. She reaches out one hand for him, and he wraps his fingers around hers until she falls back asleep about ten seconds later.

It’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen.

She finally wakes up after a couple hours and staggers to the bathroom without saying anything. She pops back out a minute later, all smiles, shaking out red hair that’s almost down to her elbows now.

He puts the datapad away and moves to sit up right at the edge of the mattress.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm…” She comes to stand between his knees and he lets his hands rest on her hips, easy as anything, like it hasn’t been nearly five months since he’s seen her. She stops playing with her hair and runs her fingers into his the best she can with most of it so short. “You shouldn’t’ve let me sleep so long.”

He slips his hands up under her shirt to rest against her skin. “You needed it.”

She makes a quiet little humming noise, not really agreeing or disagreeing, and leans in close like she’s going to kiss him. Their noses brush together, but she doesn’t press her lips to his, and he can’t help but tighten his grip on her.

“You know what else I need?”

He thinks he has a pretty good idea, but when he tilts his head up to kiss her, she stays just far enough away so he can’t.

“Birdie…”

She dips her head and he tilts his chin up, but she refuses to come close enough, her fingers tightening on his scalp in a way that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He loves when she’s like this.

He loves it.

“I believe I was promised a nice, big, _delicious_ —” He tries to pull her closer mid-sentence, but she resists as her grin grows, “—fruity drink, and a white-sand beach, and a chance to show off the little bikini I bought.”

She nips his lower lip instead of kissing him and slips out of his grip as he groans. He can hear her giggling to herself as she grabs her bag and disappears back into the bathroom with it, leaving him to sit on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

He’s been waiting so long to get his hands on her and he can’t even lie to _himself_ to say he’s annoyed with her teasing.

He loves that too.

He’s still sitting on the bed when she emerges from the bathroom once more, this time in the little bikini she’d promised, the one he’d requested be held together with strings. It’s tiny and black, and it shows off her curves, and all he can think about is tangling his fingers in all that red hair and refusing to let her out of the house all week.

He doesn’t realize he’s just staring at her with his mouth open until she starts to laugh, walking closer with an exaggerated sway in her step to stand between his knees again.

She tips his chin up with her fingers. “See something you like?”

“Uhh… can I…” His hands hover in the air on either side of her stomach, a swirl of confusing feelings washing over him. He wants to yank her into his lap, roll them over on the bed, absolutely devour her; he wants to take her to the beach, take her to his favorite restaurant, show her off to the world; he wants to hold her and tell her she’s beautiful, that he loves her, that he can’t wait to meet their baby. He _wants._

She’s smiling at him still, but it’s a little softer, something in her eyes he can’t quite identify. “Go ahead.”

He’s tentative as he finally touches her, hands running over her biotic-warm skin, over scars and skin weaves and the surprisingly firm slope that leads down to her belly button. He brushes his fingertips across her skin, just the barest of touches, and she rests her hands on the small of her back as she waits for him to finish exploring this new part of her. 

“Is she, um. Is she awake?” The question feels silly, _he_ feels silly for asking it, but Avery doesn’t look like she’s laughing at him. 

She just looks happy.

She puts her hand next to his as she shakes her head, then she pushes hard against the bump. “Nope. Lazy little thing.”

“Hey, growing is a hard job.” He leans forward and kisses the biggest part of the bump, then just under the string of her bikini top in something meant to be little gestures of affection but that makes her inhale sharply instead. He rests his chin there and looks up at her, unable to stop from smirking when he sees her cheeks stained pink. “Give her a break.”

He slides his hands around to rest on her back and pulls, and this time she lets him tug her all the way into his lap. She settles with her knees on either side of his hips and rests her hands on his shoulders.

“She can have a break when I get one,” Avery says, voice prim, repeating something she always says, and then she finally _finally_ kisses him.

Oh, he’s missed this.

She kisses him like she can’t get enough, like she’d devour him if she could, hungry and desperate and everything he’s been waiting for. He opens his mouth to her and lets her lick into it as he runs his hands up her back. She’s warm and delicious and everything he wants, and he pulls at the bow holding her bikini top together without thinking about it.

She giggles and bites at his lower lip, tugging as she leans back before releasing him to pull her top off and drop it to the floor.

“Guess we can look at the beach later?” She arches her back as she speaks, and he barely hears her words as his gaze is drawn, as she intended, to her breasts and nipples that are little darker than he remembers, but still beautiful all the same. 

He doesn’t bother to answer whatever she asked, choosing instead to let her figure it out by kissing down between the valley of her breasts and then over, keeping her in his lap with one hand on her back and cupping the weight of her breast with the other, squeezing, licking and sucking at the hard peak as she gasps and squirms in his grip.

The pressure of her body on his dick is getting to him, her restless little movements just making him harder, and he groans around her flesh in his mouth as she manages to hit him just right, grinding against the bulge trapped in his pants like she was always meant to do this.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she says, voice small and breathy. She digs her fingernails into his scalp and holds him close, like he’d ever willingly push her away right now. “Your tongue is amazing. I could come just from this.”

She gives her hips another strong thrust as she does, like she’s trying to prove her point, and he can’t help but peer up at her.

He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

He braces his feet better on the floor and moves both his hands to her hips to help guide her, forcing her hips into a steady, rolling movement over his lap until he hears her shuddering little gasps each time he hits her clit just right. He keeps his mouth busy leaving little nipping kisses across her chest, giving both breasts the kind of attention he’s literally been dreaming about, letting her ramble about how good he is to her, just giving her all the attention she deserves until…

Her breath catches in her throat and then bursts out of her in a high-pitched whine, and her hips fight back against the motion of his hands, and her fingernails dig into his scalp.

She’s close, she’s so close he knows she just needs a little push, and so he groans against her chest and bites down just enough to change up the sensation, just enough to give his kisses that edge, and then she’s falling apart in his hands just like he knew she would.

A wordless cry falls from her lips and she shudders through it, holding him tight and pressing against him as hard as she can. It’s beautiful, and he can’t keep his eyes off her, off the goosebumps that flow over her skin and the red flush that reaches from her face down across her chest.

He wants to make her feel this good every single day of her life.

She pulls away after a moment, still panting, a wide grin on her face as she opens lust-darkened eyes and stares down at him. 

He smirks up at her, stupidly pleased, and then she’s pushing at his shoulders so he’ll fall onto his back.

“You have five seconds to get your clothes off,” she informs him, and then she stands up to follow her own command.

It takes more than five seconds, but he’s so ready to get his pants off that he doesn’t argue, jumping up and stripping in record time as Avery simply pushes her bikini bottoms over her hips and leaves them on the floor.

She’s already scooting back on the bed to get comfortable, her eyes on his dick where he’s stroking it because he can’t help but touch it to push back the desire to sink into her biotic-hot body and forget everything else in the galaxy.

He crawls over her, and she opens up for him, bracketing his waist with her knees and parting her lips to make their first kiss deep and wet, already trying to angle her hips up to meet his even as he keeps his weight braced up and well away from her.

She makes a little frustrated noise, grabbing for his dog tags like she always does. “C’mon, Jimmy.”

He lets her pull her close enough to kiss her, a teasing little swipe of his tongue across her lower lip. She releases him with a smile, then she squeals as he leans down and bites at her nipple once more, still reddened and swollen from his earlier attention.

He kisses between her breasts, down her stomach, across her hip, pausing to nip at her inner thigh when she spreads her legs further apart for the breadth of his shoulders.

She’s grinning down at him when he looks up at her, something smug on her face as she anticipates what he’s about to do.

“I missed that tongue of yours while you’ve been here.”

“That right?” He licks over the spot he bit and watches as she bites her lower lip. “Well, it missed you too.”

She huffs out a laugh and flops back onto the pillows, but her legs stay open and her hips cant up toward his mouth, eager like always.

He gives in, like always.

The taste of her bursts bright and tart on his tongue, and he moans against her as he licks up her slit. He presses his tongue in deep when she starts to grind up against his face, then moves a little closer in on his elbows so he can start up a fast pattern over her clit just to hear her—

She swears roundly, hands landing on the back of his head like they belong there, tugging him closer like he’d try to leave. 

He _never_ wants to leave.

He holds her hips as steady as he can with his arms under her thighs, and doesn’t put effort into teasing her in favor of just giving her what she wants. She came all this way to see him, and he’s going to make sure she never forgets what he’s able to do for her, what he’s able to coax out of her body.

Her quiet groans become louder, cries of his name and little admissions that make his dick ache to be inside of her, unhappy to be pushed into the mattress for the time being.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” she says, voice breathy and rambling like she can’t help it, “I don’t know how I snagged you, don’t know how there aren’t girls lining up for a turn.”

His laugh is buried deep in her cunt but she hears it anyway, or she feels it, because she bites off a high-pitched moan that lets him know she’s close but not quite there before she picks back up where she left off.

“Mmm, yeah, you know it’s true just look at you, fucking hungry for it, couldn’t even wait until after we went to the beach.”

He’s not about to pull his mouth free to remind her that she’s the one who started teasing him, she’s the one who was talking about what _big delicious_ things she needed, so he just tightens his grip on her hips and closes his eyes and focuses on the way his tongue is dancing over her clit because she’s so close and if he can just get her in the right spot…

“Fuck, right there.” She catches her breath, lets it out in a whoosh, and her thighs start to shake by his ears. “I’m gonna come, baby.” 

It’s the only time she calls him baby, right as she’s about to come, and he loves to hear it, loves to coax it or force it out of her, and he just has to wait one more second she’s so close—

When she comes it’s absolutely silent, her body going taught around him, her fingers digging painfully into his scalp, her thighs tense and shaking, blocking him in from moving, her feet pressed against his sides like she can hold him there.

He keeps licking her until she catches her breath and manages to wail, the sound ripped from her almost against her will, and then she’s pushing him away because she’s too sensitive now, but he needs to be able to breathe anyway.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his face as she tries to catch her breath, legs still spread obscenely on either side of him, one arm hooked over her face so she can hide her eyes behind her elbow.

“That good, huh?”

“Fuck you,” she says, absolutely no venom in her voice. 

He snickers and leans over her, bracing his weight on his elbows and knees, kissing her under her arm. She kisses him back and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck instead of holding it over her face. She licks his lips, into his mouth, moaning at the taste of herself like she always does, and he follows his instincts to sink down lower when he feels her legs come up around his hips too.

Her stomach bumps against his before he’s expecting it to, and he tries to push back up before she locks her ankles at the small of his back.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, fucked out and eloquent.

“You sure this is—” He trails off because she finally opens her eyes and looks up at him, moving her hands around to cup his jaw.

Her fingers trace his cheeks, dance over the scar that traces across his face, and his heart does that same little flop as before. “Perfectly safe. Recommended, even. I’ll tell you if something hurts, just, please, _please_ for the love of god, fuck me.”

Well.

He can’t argue with that.

He kisses her again, then pulls away with a little smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”

She lets go of his neck and puts her hands flat on the headboard behind her, smirking right back, and he takes his cue to sit back on his heels.

He takes himself in hand and lines up, not bothering to tease anymore, slipping deep inside her with one slow, delicious thrust.

He can barely hear her whimper over his own groan at being inside of her again. It’s everything he’s been missing and somehow better than he remembered, tight and almost too hot and he never, ever wants to leave.

When he doesn’t move fast enough for her, too busy enjoying the feeling of being inside her again, she uses her leverage to push her hips hard into his, nearly knocking him off-balance

“Goddamn,” he says, forcing the word out through grit teeth. “Okay. You asked for it.”

He looks down to see her face break into a wide, dirty smile, her face flushed and hair sticking to her damp forehead.

And then he pulls out, and pushes back in, hard, and he grins at the delighted laugh that pushes from Avery’s throat.

He can do better than that.

He fucks her, hard, just like she asked, a punishing pace that has sweat dripping from his scalp and pleasure shooting up his spine faster than he’d like.

It _has_ been a long time.

He puts his hands on her ass and lifts her hips onto his thighs, and the next thrust makes her howl and arch her back, a delighted sound that he wants her to make again, so he grits his teeth together against the mounting pleasure and keeps fucking going.

She’s _going_ to come again.

She deserves it.

“This what you wanted, birdie?” His voice is rough, words forced out between sharp thrusts and harsh breaths, but they have the effect he wanted. She arches again, squirming against his bruising grip, face twisted in what he would think is pain if he didn’t know better. “This what you flew all the way out here for?”

Her “Yes!” is frantic, barely an answer to his question and more of a general exclamation of approval, and he smiles to himself as he shifts his grip on her so he can bring his right hand to her clit. She shrieks again when he presses his thumb against it, hips moving a little slower now so he can focus, but no less hard, and she absolutely howls with it.

She’s so close.

He is too.

“Come for me,” he says, trying to make it sound more like a demand and less like the plea it is. “Let me fucking feel you.”

She nods, fast, eyes squeezed closed and mouth open, chest heaving as she draws in ragged breaths.

He presses harder with his thumb, his orgasm threatening to overwhelm him at any moment, praying, praying, praying…

She begins to come barely a second before him, his name dripping from her lips as her cunt clenches around him, and then he can’t hold on for anything. He fucks through it, pleasure bursting through him and making his vision go white, and he curls around her to bury his face in the crook of her neck as he comes inside her.

When he comes back to himself, she’s rubbing circles on his back with one hand, the other cupping the back of his head. 

“Doing okay there?”

She sounds amused, so he just groans in answer, earning the giggle he was aiming for.

“You’re gonna crush me,” she informs him, still sounding amused.

He rolls to the side but doesn’t let go of her, tugging until her back is against his front and her hair is all over his face. It’s annoying, but he can’t make himself care.

She wiggles in his grip. “I thought you were taking me to the beach.”

He squeezes her tighter, presses a kiss to the back of her neck where he thinks her amp port is. “I’m just catching my breath. Give me a minute.”

He’s asleep before he hears her response.


	2. Chapter 2

When James wakes up, Avery is in the kitchen, munching on the food he brought, eating right out the package like a feral child. She’s wearing a very tiny pair of shorts and his discarded shirt, hair twisted up in a knot on top of her head, and she grins at him around a mouthful of crackers.

She swallows hard. “I wore you out, huh.”

He boxes her in with his body, leaning in to put his hands on the counter. She leans back, looking pleased that her words have goaded him to do what she wanted, and he leans in like he’s going to give her a kiss but presses his lips to her forehead instead.

She giggles and ducks her head to rest against his bare chest. He wraps his arms around her and rubs his hand over her back. 

This feels good.

This feels right.

She must feel the same, because she keeps leaning against him instead of pulling away to eat more. She just rests her hands on his waist, then lifts one to trace over the line of his tattoo that dips down near her eye. 

“What’s the plan?”

He checks the time on his omnitool to see how long they’ve already spent in the house — almost all day, after her nap and his — and then gives her the two obvious options: “We can eat, or we can go to the beach.”

She hums as she considers, fingers still dancing over his skin. “Is eating _on_ the beach out of the question?”

“Anything for you.” He kisses the top of her head and tries to hide his laugh as she makes a little scoffing noise and pinches at his side. He grabs her fingers and brings them up to his mouth to kiss them too, and he’s rewarded with a scowl and a bright blush across her cheeks.

Yeah.

Anything for her.

“Put your suit back on.” He pushes her ever so gently toward the bedroom and then hesitates as she seems unwilling to go. “You okay?”

She pulls her lower lip into her mouth and stares at him, cheeks still kind of pink, and then finally nods. She steps a little closer, chin raised for a kiss, and he gives her one that lingers, that turns into a second and then a third, and then he’s lifting her onto the counter so he can stand between her thighs to keep their necks from hurting.

When he finally breaks away for a breath, he’s half-hard with no way to hide it, but she doesn’t open her eyes as he rests his forehead against hers. She just sits there, a half-smile on her face, looking pleased as she rests her hands on his biceps.

He can practically see her pulling herself together, shutting down whatever it was that had made her stop and ask for a kiss. When she opens her eyes and sits up straight, it’s the same Avery who walked out of the bathroom to tease him, the same Avery who looked him up and down in the club and asked for his name while already intending to take him to her apartment. 

He doesn’t like seeing her pull part of herself away from him, but he doesn’t know how to bring it up yet, doesn’t know how to make her have a serious talk with him when she’s smirking up at him and pulling him closer with her legs around his hips until he’s pressed snug into the junction of her legs.

“Quit distracting me,” she says as though she’s not being completely fucking distracting herself. She wraps his dog tags around one finger, then pushes him back with her hand in the center of his chest.

He lets her move him where she wants him, lets her slide off the counter and trail her fingers down his stomach only to pull her hand away before it reaches where he’s suddenly desperate for it, lets her skip away toward the bedroom without stopping her, then stands absolutely still in the kitchen as she disappears to get changed.

 _“Dios.”_ He’s so far gone he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he just rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries to shake it off.

He gives himself to the count of five to feel confused, then he starts grabbing food and premade drinks to take outside with them so they can finally enjoy the private beach he paid way too much for.

He’s just pulled his swim trunks on when Avery emerges from the bathroom again, this time in a white bikini instead of a black one — but still, he’s very happy to see, extremely tiny. She’s braided her too-long hair and put on a sun hat even though it’s dangerously close to sundown, and she’s giving his shorts a very appreciative look before he has a chance to say anything.

“Are those the smallest shorts you could find, Major?”

He looks down at them, then back up at her, and flexes a little. “There a problem?”

She giggles and looks at him so fondly his breath catches. “Hmm, no. I think they could be smaller, really.”

“Quit complaining.” He kisses her so she won’t think he’s upset, grimaces at the taste of sunscreen on her lips, and then grabs her hand to pull her outside behind him.

It takes a minute to get from the house to the ocean, but the walk and the bill are more than worth it to hear her soft gasp at the sight of the white sand and blue water turning orange from the setting sun.

“Holy shit.” Avery stops walking as soon as she can see the full span of the horizon in front of them, only broken up by one of the nearby mountains off to the south. “Holy shit, Vega.”

He can’t help but puff up and preen a bit at her compliment, proud of himself, and then she’s staring at him with the same expression she had in the kitchen, that thoughtful look that he doesn’t quite understand.

He pulls her in for a kiss, and she goes willingly, stepping into his space and reaching up on her toes so he can reach better, and then she slips from his grip and heads right to the water.

He leaves their things in a pile on the sand and follows her, drawn into her orbit with the same inexorable pull of a planet on a dying satellite. He’s _going_ to crash into her, he just has to hope the damage isn’t too bad.

She stops when the water is up to her knees, but James keeps on going. He grabs her, scooping her up into his arms so he can carry her deeper into the water, and she shrieks as the waves start to rock them.

“Don’t you fucking drop me!” She grabs him right back, arms around his neck and fingernails digging into shoulders like she’d be able to do anything to keep herself up in his arms if he _really_ wanted to throw her into the ocean.

He doesn’t want to throw her, not right now at least, because all he wants to do is hold her like he is and just… enjoy being together.

He sinks down into the water a bit, letting it hold them both, and she sputters and clings to him until she’s able to turn to face him completely, her arms still around his neck but her legs floating free as he holds her around her waist instead.

“See?” He can’t keep the teasing out of his voice as the waves buoy them up and down. “This is nice.”

She wrinkles her nose at him, but the expression breaks after just half a second and she’s grinning up at him, squinting a little in the light.

“Yeah, you did good.” A wave comes and pushes them up, and then as they fall back down she pulls herself closer and presses her lips to his. She tastes like salt when he opens his mouth to her, and she sighs as he traces his tongue across her lower lip.

She breaks the kiss first and pulls herself even closer, resting her chin on his shoulder and letting the ocean support her weight.

It feels good to hold her like this, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to float in the ocean all tangled together.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

—-

Avery leans back on the beach towel and props herself up with one hand as she eats with the other, pretending she can’t see James staring at her with something like wonder on his face as they dry off in the warm air together. 

As much as she’s been looking forward to this trip, she’s been nervous that things might be weird between them, or that he wasn’t actually excited about the baby like he said he was, or that he’d be put off by the way her body has changed since the last time he saw her in person, but…

None of that is true. It feels like they’ve picked up right where they left off, and he’s been just as thoughtful as he always was, and he’s only excited about feeling her belly and hoping the baby will move for him even though she’s told him a hundred times it’s too early for that.

She doesn’t know when it happened, when she fell so damn hard for this man who was supposed to be a one night stand, just a bit of fun to reward herself for staying alive after another long week, and now… here she is, on a beach with him, pregnant, happy, and… in love.

She looks up at him as the thought crosses her mind, trying to be kind of subtle about it so he won’t notice, but he’s already staring at her, has been the whole time, a content little smile on his face like he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Berry for your thoughts?” She offers him the strawberry she’d been planning on eating herself, a shopping list concession to her most recent craving, and James leans forward to eat it right from her hand.

He takes it from her fingers gently, just his lips and tongue removing the fruit and then its juices without breaking eye contact with her. It raises goosebumps on her arm that travel up and make her shiver and draw in a deep breath, a promise of more that makes him smirk a little as he watches.

He leans back, smug, stretching just right to make her admire his muscles that are somehow more delicious than she remembers them from London.

Has he been working out _more?_ Surely not.

“We should go dancing tomorrow,” he says, answering the question she already forgot she asked. “Dinner, then dancing, then…” He trails off, but she knows what he’s thinking, _oh_ does she know what he’s thinking.

“I think I can fit you in,” she says, looking at him from under her lashes when his smirk grows wider at her innuendo. She eats another strawberry with a little more care than is really needed, moaning a bit when she takes the first bite, then cleaning the juice off her fingers until all she can taste is her own skin.

James makes a little grumbling noise, but she doesn’t look at him, pretending not to hear until he leans over and grabs her with both hands to haul her into his lap.

She lets him, settling easily with her thighs bracketing his hips like she belongs there, but she doesn’t kiss him, just leaves him waiting for it with his lips parted and the tip of his tongue trapped between his front teeth as she leans over and snags another strawberry for herself.

As soon as she bites into it, he’s leaning up into her space, nuzzling her hand out of the way so he can bite the other half of the fruit. She laughs and nearly drops the strawberry, but they bite through it and each comes away with half. Avery leans back to chew but James follows her, nosing along her jawline as his fingers dance up her sides.

She squirms as it tickles, then moves one of her hands to the side of his neck to tilt his jaw up to get a real kiss. He gives it to her, gladly, enthusiastically, tongue that still tastes sweet dipping into her mouth as his arms wrap around her waist to keep her locked in place.

She lets him hold her there as they kiss, taking their time, just holding each other as the stars come out above them and the air starts to cool. She nips at his lower lip, tugs on it, listens to him groaning under her as he scratches at her back with blunt nails.

She loses herself in it, drowns in it, throws herself into it because she doesn’t know what else to do as he consumes her and once again pulls at the tie holding her bikini top on.

She finally breaks free and takes a deep breath, head back and hair tickling her lower back as she stares up at the sky, and he leans in to kiss over her throat, down across her collarbone in a bid to just get as close to her as possible.

She loves it.

She loves _him._

“James…” She starts to say it about, to just let it go easy as breathing, but then her breath catches with the words in her throat as his teeth scrape across her skin, and she just can’t say them, not yet — she _hopes_ he feels it, she _thinks_ he does, but she just can’t. She can’t. “You taste like the ocean.”

He kisses her once more before sitting up, eyes dark and reflecting the light of the stars back at her. “You taste like sunscreen.”

She cups his jaw, smiling, because he hadn’t cared before she said anything. “Want to see if we both fit in that shower?”

His grin grows. “Fuck yeah.”

She climbs from his lap without his help because he’s still too busy tugging at her bikini strings, and wraps one of the towels around her shoulders to ward both off the chill that comes from separating from him and his grabby hands.

They get the remaining food packed up and carry it to the house, hand in hand so James can tug Avery into moving a little faster. She lets him pull her along, anticipation building in her the closer they get to the house. The satisfaction from earlier is gone, replaced with a deep hunger like she hasn’t already come three times since arriving in Brazil, and she leaves him in the kitchen so she can hurry to the bathroom to get the water hot.

She waits for him, leaning into the shower stall that’s more than big enough for them to share, even with James as big as he is and her not as small as she used to be, one hand under the water and her bathing suit still on so he’ll be able to peel her out of it like he obviously wanted to on the beach.

She hears him groan behind her when he makes it in from putting the food away, and then his hands are on her just like she thought he would, pushing her bottoms down until they pool around her feet before he gives her top the same attention, plucking at the bows until it falls to the bathroom floor too.

He pulls her back against him, her bare ass snug against his hips, and runs his hands over her body, from her hips around to her belly, then up to cup her breasts. It sends a thrill through her and she shivers, biting her lower lip when he pinches her nipples.

God, she’s missed this, how confident he is, how he always seems to know exactly what to do to get her as wet as possible. It’s thrilling, letting him play with her like this while she feels him getting hard against her, and she arches her back to grind against him with more purpose.

He feels fucking amazing.

“Come on.” She gives up on grinding against him after just a moment, putting her hands on his to make him release her. He does, of course he does, letting her slip from his grasp and step under the stream of hot water.

She turns and looks at him, brushing her hair back over her shoulders, watches with a hungry smile as he pushes his swim trunks down and releases his cock, hard and ready for her. He cups it, stroking it almost mindlessly as he follows her into the shower, crowding her against the wall to kiss her.

He tilts her face up to his with his hand on the side of her neck, and this time when their lips meet she can’t taste anything but strawberries and clean water, and she dips her tongue into his mouth to chase it.

He finally breaks away from her and reaches for the body wash she brought with her, pouring some into a washcloth and stepping back only enough to give himself space to run the lather over her skin.

She lets him wash her, watching the steam curling around him, lips parted and breath coming hard through her parted lips as he slowly cleans her.

He takes his time, teasing her almost with the washcloth, skin slowly turning red in the hot water, green light flowing under his skin in a way that used to make her so angry but now just feels familiar and right. 

When he kneels down on the hard tile to wash her legs, and then her feet, she can’t take it anymore, can’t handle the pressure between her thighs or the sight of his hard cock going untouched between his. She can’t handle the warm way he’s looking at her or the feather-light kisses he keeps brushing over her skin.

It’s too much, it’s too much and she needs him, and she grabs his hand to pull him back to his feet with the insistent pressure of someone who knows what she wants, what she needs.

“Please, baby,” she says, tugging hard, “I need you.”

He leaves the washcloth on the floor as he stands up, towering over her even as his lips are drawn to hers. It’s deep and it’s beautiful, and she drags her teeth over his lower lip because she just can’t help herself.

She needs him.

He turns her around, and she rests her hands against the glass of the shower wall as his cock slips between her thighs, sliding against her ass eased by the slippery body wash.

She presses her thighs together and arches her lower back, and he groans low in her ear as he bends over her. 

She braces herself and he holds her tight, one hand on her hip and the other twining with hers on the shower wall as he starts to move his hips in a slow glide between her legs.

“Feel good, birdie?” He mouths at the line of her shoulder, nips at the underside of her jaw, sucks at her throat for just a second too long like he was going to leave a mark and then thought better of it.

“You always feel good.” If she angles her hips just right, the tip of his cock brushes against her clit with each of his thrusts, a bright spot of pleasure amid the slow grind of him against her backside. It’s not enough to get her off, but it’s enough to make her want so much more, a tease that’s building her up achingly slowly as though that’s his goal -- more than just enjoying himself.

And, oh, he’s enjoying himself, his fingers tight on her skin and his teeth against her spine, against her throat, tugging at her earlobe as he shudders and groans behind her. It’s a heady feeling, this large man behind her, pressing hot moans into her skin, burying them in her wet hair as the shower keeps them warm.

Her breath is coming in short, harsh pants now as the teasing becomes too much for her, making her desperate to actually feel him inside her even though she _knows_ with every fiber of her being that he’s doing this to her on purpose. She shifts her weight, tightening her fingers around his to brace herself to reach down between her legs.

His next thrust meets her hand there, her fingers unerringly finding and then wrapping around the head of his cock as his hips press flush against her ass. It surprises an extra loud moan out of him, a breathy _“Dios”_ directly into her ear, and she can’t help but smile as his grip turns bruising on her hip and he stays as close as he can for her to tease him right back.

“Feel good?” She throws his words back at him, pleased and breathless, and she can’t stop her pleased giggle as he holds her hip steady to pull back and thrust harder against her. “Yeah, that’s it. Come on.”

And he does, following her words and her permission, and he buries his face in her hair and presses her hand flat against the shower wall as he comes, cock twitching against her fingers and between her thighs, painting the glass with ropes of white. 

She strokes him through it the best she can with the way he’s pressed against her, shivering in his arms as the force of her desire presses insistently between her legs, a demand that won’t wait to be taken care of.

When James’ body relaxes and his hold on her loosens, she lifts her free hand to her mouth to clean off her fingers, licking the taste of his spend from her skin as he catches his breath.

It doesn’t take him long to come back to himself, and she knows the exact moment when he opens his eyes again to see what she’s doing, because she’s rewarded by another full-body shiver and his hand moving from her hip up to rest against the front of her throat.

“Are you trying to kill me? Is that your plan?”

She pulls her finger from her mouth with a little pop and then melts into his embrace, spreading her legs a little to encourage him to move his other hand between them.

“Mmm, if you’ve survived this long, I don’t think a little more teasing is gonna kill you, Jimmy.” She presses her ass against him to prove it, just because she knows he’s fucked out and overstimulated, and he tightens his grip on her throat even as he grunts. “You gonna leave me hanging? I gotta do this myself?”

“You’re so fucking greedy.” He almost sounds put out, but she knows he’s not. She knows he’s not because he fucking loves it when she’s like this, he’s told her as much, and because he finally lets go of her hand so he can put those fingers to better use.

She gasps when his middle finger finally breaches her folds, just teasing through what wetness hasn’t been washed away by the shower, the lightest possible pressure he can manage to put on her clit, but she still manages to force out, “You fucking love it.”

His laugh is low in her ear, his fingers a teasing pressure at her throat and her cunt, and she reaches back to hold the back of his neck for support.

“You got me there,” he says, and then he finally gets to work, dipping his hand lower to slide his middle two fingers deep inside her while the heel of his hand presses against her clit.

He’s not teasing now.

She cries out, knees buckling, holding onto him for dear life as he fingers her like he was always made to do it, stroking her inner walls with just the right amount of pressure, just the right way to catapult her to the edge where his earlier teasing hadn’t been able to.

“Fuck, fuck, oh please…” She’s not above begging, and she does, thighs trembling where she clamps them around his hand. It’s too good, it’s too much, and she teeters on the edge of orgasm for longer than she thought she would.

“Go ahead and come,” he says, voice sounding rough. “I know you want to.”

She _does,_ and so she obeys, coming around his fingers with his other hand still holding her throat, lips bitten raw and voice wrecked. 

“That’s it,” he says, holding her tighter, not slowing down the motion of his fingers as he forces more pleasure from her. “That’s my girl.”

She barely hears his words, still shivering his hands, thighs still shaking. She’s overwhelmed and finally has to push his hand away to get some rest.

It’s his turn to clean off his fingers in his mouth, and she doesn’t have the wherewithal to do anything other than just turn in his arms and sag against him when she sees what he’s doing.

He laughs around them, then puts both hands on her jaw to tilt her face up for a kiss. This one is soft and slow, something sweet in it, and she drowns herself in the sensation until it makes her chest feel tight and she has to break away or start to cry.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she says, pretending to be stern when he raises his eyebrows at her. “I have to wash my hair.”

“You invited me in here,” he says, eyes narrowing a little, and she lets him know she’s joking by pressing up on her tiptoes to give him another kiss.

He doesn’t keep his hands to himself in any case, helping her wash and condition her hair even though he’s mostly getting in the way. It feels nice to have his big hands massaging her scalp, so she lets him, knows she’ll miss this when she has to go back home in a few days.

Maybe she can talk him into doing this every day she has to wash her hair.

She doesn’t think he’ll object.

It’s late by the time they’re drying off with the house’s big, fluffy towels, and they get ready for bed standing side by side at twin sinks. He finishes first, and he signals his readiness to leave the bathroom by yanking her towel from her body and leaving her standing nude in front of the mirror, eyes wide with her toothbrush dangling from her lips.

She glares at him in the mirror, and he winks right back before going back to the bedroom. She admires his ass as he goes, then hurries to join him.

He has the lights off and the windows open when she slides under the sheets next to him, curling up on her side so he can pull her back against his front.

“Tired?”

She can barely hear his question where his lips are pressed against the back of her neck, but she can feel them moving near enough to her amp port that she shivers.

“I’m always tired these days.”

He makes a rumbling noise of consideration, thoughtful, and he tugs her a little closer before resting his hand on the curve of her stomach. She does the same, resting her fingers on top of his, both of them waiting in silence for something to happen.

She’s almost asleep, lured by the warmth and the long day and how hard she came in the shower, when she feels the baby wake up, what might be a tiny fist pressing against her in greeting.

She twitches, pulling herself back to consciousness, to move James’ hand as close as she can get it. After a moment, the movement happens again, the baby ready to party now that her parents are ready to pass out.

“She’s awake?” James sounds more alert than she is, but not by much, his fingers twitching before he presses his hand against her a little harder.

“Mhm. She’s just punching away in there.”

James hums and kisses the back of her shoulder. “Can’t feel her yet.”

She pats his hand and lets sleep start claiming her again, floating down into the comforting warmth that comes from being in James’ arms again.

She wishes they could be like this all the time.

She wishes she didn’t have to go back to London without him.

She wants to be with him all the time, just him and her and their little family.

His voice soothes her into unconsciousness, a comforting rumble behind her as he speaks, quietly, just to their daughter. _“No puedo esperar para conocerte, mija,”_ he says, the most Spanish she’s ever heard him say at once. _“Te quiero.”_

Her last thought before sleep is that she loves him too.


	3. Chapter 3

Avery can hear the ocean when she wakes up, the salty breeze coming in through the open windows. She and James are still tangled together, but on the opposite side of the bed, one of his hands resting motionless and loose in his sleep on her breast, his cock hard against her ass.

She smiles into her pillow and gives a sleepy little stretch, flexing her feet and rolling her shoulders and pressing her hips back to see what James will do.

He grunts, fingers twitching against her skin, and his hips seem to cant forward of their own volition. His breath catches in his throat as she grinds against him again, but then he releases it with a soft little snore and she knows he’s still absolutely sound asleep.

Which is fine, he deserves it, but now she’s awake and feeling his body against hers is just sort of stoking her general horniness. If they’re only going to be together for a few days, she wants to make the most of them… right?

She drags herself to the bathroom first, because she’s too pregnant not to, and by the time she makes it back, James is starfished in the middle of the bed, lips parted as he snores a little louder than before. It’s cute, but she’s not in the mood for cuteness anymore.

She yanks the blankets back and crawls up between his legs; he’s not hard anymore, but he will be in just a minute. She nuzzles against his hip, keeping one eye on him, then she just goes for it, holding his soft cock steady in one hand so she can lap at the tip with her tongue.

It gets the reaction she wanted. He starts to harden the second her tongue touches him, his snores catching in a way that makes her laugh against him, and she keeps licking until he’s hard enough to take the head into her mouth to suck on it in earnest.

She forgets to look at him, too busy tasting him and listening to his breathing stutter to remember to keep her eyes open, so she doesn’t notice him waking up until his hands gather up her hair to hold it at the back of her head.

“Fuck, birdie, again?”

She looks up at him and laughs around his cock in her mouth, which makes his grip on her hair tighten. Instead of pushing her down, he pulls her off. 

She licks her lips. “I’m just gonna keep going until you get tired of me.”

He laughs and releases her hair, sitting up a bit to cup her jaw instead. He guides her along up his body until he can steal a kiss, which he does before he says, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you.”

She kisses him again to shut him up, because if he says more sweet things like that she’ll start crying or spilling all the insecurities and big feelings she’s been drowning in for weeks, and lowers her hips until she can grind against his cock.

He groans and collapses back onto the mattress, landing with a soft _whump._ She keeps up her slow grind for another minute, now just teasing herself, and then she reaches down to hold him steady so she can sink down onto him.

It’s slow and exquisite, a hint of soreness from yesterday making her drag it out in slower thrusts before she can rest her entire weight on him. He hits her deep like this, fills her just right, and she wiggles her hips back and forth to get her body fully relaxed for him.

He groans like she’s hurting him, his stomach muscles flexing under her, and she watches the movement and the barely-there flow of green light that follows it, and then she leans forward to brace her hands on his pecs so she has the leverage to start moving.

She keeps it slow at first, easing herself into it so her muscles won’t cramp, and James lets her set the pace even as she can feel him holding himself back from meeting her thrusts with faster, harder ones of his own. His one concession to his desire to fuck her harder is in planting his heels on the bed and putting his hands on her thighs, but he doesn’t try to control the pace. 

She moves faster anyway.

It feels amazing, and she loves it, loves having his big hands on her as he moves inside her, loves hearing his earnest groans coming from deep in his chest.

She’s missed this while they’ve been apart.

She meant what she said. She’s going to fuck him until he gets sick and tired of her.

“Christ, you feel good,” she says, voice strained, and he groans in response, fingers tightening on her skin. She wants them to _bruise._ “How much do you think it’d cost to get one of these 3D printed to take back to London with me?”

James bursts into surprised laughter, but it dissolves quickly into a moan when she lifts herself up on her knees and then pushes back down with more force than she has been. He slaps her ass with one hand, then slaps her again with both before squeezing her cheeks and holding her down on him.

_“Fuck.”_

“You can take home a toy but it can’t fuck you like I can.” He sits up, unbalances her, and spanks her one more time as he finally starts to fuck her back, like he’s trying to prove his point.

All she can do is wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tight as she starts to spiral up to what’s promising to be a toe curling orgasm.

“You miss my dick that much, you’ll just have to visit it more often.”

He drags them to the edge of the bed so he can brace his feet on the floor and fuck her harder without putting her on her back, and she wails mindlessly into his ear.

This is more than she thought she’d get when she started sucking him, but she’ll be damned before she admits that out loud.

She can’t say anything in any case, not any words, her mind going blank with pleasure as James holds her still and fucks her good and proper, just like yesterday, and she clenches tight around him with each thrust.

“Baby, baby, please.” She’s begging, almost, close to coming, more desperate for it now than when she first woke up to feel him hard, and she scratches mindlessly at his back when he chuckles low in her ear. “Please, _please…”_

“C’mon then, birdie.” James slides one big hand up her back to tangle in her hair, his thumb pressing unerringly against her amp port, and she flies apart in his arms, head tipped back to scream at the ceiling as the pleasure overwhelms her.

James swears in her ear as he comes too, drawn in by the feeling of her coming around him, filling her as he holds her hips steady against his and buries his face against her throat.

She can’t move. She can barely _breathe._ “I think you broke me.”

He huffs against her throat, then kisses a line up across her jaw to her lips. “You started it.”

She just grunts and collapses against his front, draping herself over his chest, and he lets himself fall back against the mattress. She grumbles a little as the move puts pressure on her stomach, then slides off him so she can curl up against his side instead. 

He makes a wounded noise as he slips out of her, loud enough that it covers up the little whimper she can’t stop herself from making either.

“Mkay, back to sleep.”

He laughs, a low chuckle that makes her smile against his skin. “Sure you don’t want me to make breakfast?”

She opens one eye and peers up at him, weighing the heaviness of her limbs against the hunger she knows is just around the corner. “Well, now that you mention it…”

He sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders out and then popping his neck. She just waits as he leans down and brushes her hair away from her face so he can kiss her cheek, then he’s up and on his feet and disappearing into the bathroom.

How did she get so fucking lucky?

It’s almost enough to make her feel guilty, the way he’s taking care of her like this, going out of his way to make sure she has everything she even _thinks_ about wanting. It’s too much — she’s being selfish, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she be doing something for him, too?

She’s sitting up by the time he finishes up in the bathroom, walking back out completely naked and utterly unconcerned by it. He sees her looking and winks at her, preening, absolutely glowing after their morning together.

He swings by the bed to give her a firmer, minty kiss, and then heads to the kitchen without stopping to put on pants. There are red lines across the top of his back, thin but bright from her fingernails, and she shakes her head because there’s a tin of medigel in the bathroom and he hadn’t bothered to put any on.

Maybe _that’s_ what he’s getting out of this. She’s getting breakfast and he’s getting to fuck as much as he wants for a whole week.

She should… talk to him about it.

She gets up with the intention to do just that, swings by the bathroom and then pauses to pull his discarded shirt on over her head, and finds him starting the coffee maker in the kitchen.

He turns around and lifts his eyebrows when he sees her standing there with her hands on her hips. “No nap?”

“Um, I wanted to ask—”

Twin chimes from their omnitools interrupt her. 

She checks hers first, eyebrows drawn together at what kind of emergency would chime them both, and she’s greeted by a message from Sam. It’s sent to them both, a link to some online article, and when she opens it…

“‘Alliance Heartthrob James Vega — Off the Market?’ What the _fuck?”_ She looks up at him, then back down at the article as she keeps reading. “ ‘Reaper War Veteran and recently-promoted Major James Vega has been living in Rio for months, but this is the first time he’s been spotted with anyone hanging off his arm. Who is this mystery girl? Here’s what we know.’ James, this is fucking insane. Look, there are pictures!”

And there are, obviously shot from hidden cameras somewhere, of them standing outside the airport together, and then another of them making out on the beach. That one is a little harder to see since it was dark, the image a little grainy, a little harder to identify her.

She’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she doesn’t look obviously pregnant in either picture. The beach picture isn’t high quality enough to tell, plus she was sitting in his lap with their bodies pressed together — at the airport, she just looks a little chubby.

She frowns.

James is already apologizing. “I’m so sorry, birdie, I didn’t know, I can call and get some security or we can move your flight—”

She cuts him off.

He’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“I am _also_ a Reaper War Veteran! I have medals!” He stops talking mid-sentence and stares at her, mouth a little agape. “Not one person there recognizes me? I was on the _news.”_

He’s silent for a moment as the coffee maker gurgles. “Uhh—”

“This is bullshit. And that first picture is _not_ flattering.” She frowns at it again, squinting. Should she be wearing tighter clothes at this point? Like to show off her belly? Would that make her look more pregnant and less like she just stopped working out?

She looks down at herself and pulls James’ shirt tighter across her front, watching the way it stretches over her stomach. It feels like it should be obvious she’s pregnant, but…

“Here.”

James waves a mug of coffee under her nose to distract her and it works. She takes the mug from him and settles on one of the kitchen stools to drink it instead of following the weird turn her thoughts have taken. 

It’s too hot but he’s made it just exactly right, so she breathes in the steam and lets the liquid burn her tongue because she can’t wait even one more second to enjoy it.

Apparently the silence gives James the space he needs to figure out what to say to her, which he does after making a cup of coffee for himself and leaning against the other side of the counter with his hip.

“So, to be clear,” he says, speaking slowly and looking over her shoulder at the large windows facing the beach, “you’re not upset at the invasion of our privacy. You’re upset that they didn’t recognize you?”

She blows on her coffee to buy herself a second to speak, embarrassment creeping in at his question. “Uhh. Maybe.” She sneaks a glance up at him and is rewarded by the sight of him hiding a grin behind his mug.

”So you don’t want to go home early?”

She puts her mug down and looks at him more directly. He’s still kinda smiling, but it’s almost more of a grimace now, and he’s still not looking at her. He’s just standing with his shoulders stiff and his hip leaning too casually against the counter, eyes on the window like he can see the ocean if he stares hard enough.

“Just because some reporters don’t have anything better to talk about? No.”

He looks at her and his smile relaxes into something that looks more genuine. She grins right back at him.

“I lived through all the Alec Ryder bullshit, I can live through some paparazzi in Brazil on the week I set aside to fuck my boyfriend in this gorgeous house he rented for us. Yeah?” She cups her mug with both hands and rests it against her chin as she waits for his reaction, and she’s pleased when he huffs out a laugh into his own coffee. “Do _you_ want me to go home early?”

He opens his mouth, pauses long enough to take a deep breath, and then says, “Fuck no.”

She blinks at him, slowly, wonders what he started to say, and then decides to let it go too. “Okay, then, that’s settled. I’ll stay here until we get me that toy I want to take home.”

He rolls his eyes, but he still laughs and flashes her a smirk with a hint of white teeth. “Yeah, yeah. Eggs?”

“Please.”

—

James spends literally the whole day reeling at Avery’s reaction to their pictures being on the extranet. She shakes off her anger after breakfast, showers and emerges into the living room in her bikini and hat and a pair of ridiculous mirrored sunglasses, all smiles, ready to go soak up the sun like nothing had happened.

He doesn’t want to push her, doesn’t want to bring it back up and make her angry again, trip over whatever that was that made her so briefly furious at not being identified in the pictures, he just… goes along with her, swims with her, teases her, pulls her in for kisses and, yeah, sure, he lets his hands wander more than he should since he knows they could be being watched, but he wants her to _relax._

He doesn’t want anything else to ruin this vacation, anything to stress her out or remind her that, technically, they’re not safe in their little safe house. Someone knows where they are, and if it’s the company that owns the rental he’s going to be _livid,_ and Sam’s going to be mad, and Sam will probably get Liara involved in the whole thing and then it’s really going to get out of control.

So, no, he doesn’t want Avery to pick up on the fact that he’s constantly scanning for drones like he’ll be able to do anything about it if he sees one, and he doesn’t want her to pick up on the fact that he’s now tense as hell despite saying he wants her to relax for the rest of the time.

It seems to be working for the most part. Every now and then she gives him a funny sideways look like she knows what he’s doing, but she doesn’t bring it up, doesn’t push it either, and they spend hours by the water, skin slowly turning red despite the layers and layers of sunblock she keeps forcing on him.

He, at least, will probably be tanned by the morning. He doesn’t know how she’ll deal with it.

She takes a mid-afternoon nap, body still confused from the time change and exhausted from the travel and the baby and the fucking, and he takes the time to contact Sam to see if they can figure out how to keep the press away from them for the rest of the week.

This was supposed to be a _family_ vacation, not a vacation where they have to spend the entire time hiding in the house to keep their pictures offline. 

Her suggestion is basically the same as the only thing he’s been able to think of so far — stay home, take advantage of the amenities in and around the house, enjoy each other.

Avery doesn’t want to stay in the house. _He_ doesn’t want to stay in the house.

She says just to be careful, have fun, send Avery back to her in one piece, and try to keep his eyes open.

He thanks her but doesn’t say he doesn’t want to send Avery back to her in any number of pieces, just says goodbye and goes into the bedroom to find Avery asleep on her side curled around his pillow, snoring, a little puddle of drool forming under her open mouth, and he sits next to her and settles in to look at apartment listings on his omnitool until she wakes up.

He finds some that look nice, not too far from N-school and not too far from the Alliance base, and he saves them to share later, after he gets the _cojones_ to just be honest with her, and then he curls around her back and rests his hand on her stomach and tries to make himself relax.

It must work, because he opens his eyes to see Avery slipping free of his grasp, rolling her shoulders and putting one hand on the small of her back as she makes a little noise of discontent. He tries to reach for her to pull her back into the bed, but she doesn’t notice, just slips away and moves to the bathroom.

The shower water comes on after just a minute, and he considers following her in there, but then he hears the lock on the door click damningly, keeping him exactly where he already is.

He drifts back to sleep.

He’s not sure how much time has passed by the time the mattress dips next to him and delicate fingers dance up his spine. He grumbles and shies away from the touch, then relaxes as they smooth through his hair.

“Hey, big guy.” There’s laughter in Avery’s voice, and when he looks up at her he sees her smiling, the lightest of sunburns across her nose and cheekbones. “Are you taking me to dinner, or do I have to go out by myself?”

He grumbles again, a little louder, and she giggles in response. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a minute.” He rolls onto his back and stretches out his muscles, relishing in the slight burn, and then when he opens his eyes again he can see her watching him with sharp eyes and a wicked smile. “Hmm?”

She arches one dark eyebrow. “We don’t have all night, Vega.”

“No?” He sits up to reach for her, to pull her into his space (and maybe under him), to see what she’s got on under her black dress, and she slaps his hands away without her smile dropping. “Aww, birdie.”

“You promised me dinner and dancing, and I intend to cash in on that.” When he reaches for her again, she lets him pull her into his lap with a little eye roll (but, he can’t help but notice, because he’s looking for it, not even pretending to stop him) and loops her arms around his neck. “Hey. It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m not so old that I don’t want to celebrate.”

His hands creep up her soft thighs, inching under her skirt and heading for her ass. She smiles indulgently at him, brushing her fingers over the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. He knows he’s not going to get any farther right now, not when she’s dead-set on leaving the house, but… it doesn’t hurt to tease a little, right?

There’s another problem too.

“Is it New Year’s Eve?”

She lifts both eyebrows at him. “Uh. Yeah. Isn’t that part of why you suggested this week?”

He shakes his head. “It’s just between levels.”

Her expression flattens a bit, and a pang of guilt hits him square in the chest. “You just forgot?”

“Uhh… maybe.” Shit. “But, hey, let’s go out. I already picked out the places, and you’re going to love them. I just… uh, forgot what day it is.”

She chews on the inside of her lip as she considers him, like she’s trying to decide if she’s going to be mad at him or not. He tries to look innocent, doesn’t want the rest of their vacation ruined because he forgot the date (and, really, why is she mad about it in the first place?) but he must pass inspection because her expression relaxes a bit and she leans forward to kiss him, just a little, not the way he wants to be kissed when she’s in his lap and his hands are almost on her ass.

“You sure?”

He absolutely can’t read her expression. This is like when she wasn’t mad about the news article for the same reason he was mad at the news article — he’s not 100% sure what’s going on in her brain, and he wants her to tell him.

“Absolutely,” he says, because he _is_ sure, but he doesn’t let her go. “You okay?”

She blinks at him, then she smiles. “Yeah, yeah I am. It’s just dumb.”

“What’s dumb?”

She rolls her eyes and won’t quite look at him, but she answers his question anyway. “I just thought you wanted to bring the new year in with me.”

“Well, I do.” He waits until she looks at him to add, “It’s just a happy accident.”

That makes her giggle, and the rest of the little ball of anxiety in his chest relaxes a bit. “I guess we’re good at those.”

His laugh is more like a grunt. “You bet. Now let me up so I can make myself pretty for you.”

“You pulled _me_ over.” She climbs out of his lap anyway, swatting him back when he takes advantage of their positions to swat her ass. “And, anyway, you’re already pretty.”

“Hah. I knew you liked me!”

She rolls her eyes at him again, more dramatically this time, and accepts his victory kiss with a nip of her teeth on his bottom lip that makes a little thrill run through him, so he kisses her again, and then again, and then he’s trying to crowd over her on the bed so she’ll lean back and let him rest between her legs because that’s where he _belongs,_ but she pushes him away with both her hands on his chest and one foot up at his hip bone. 

“Quit stalling and _go.”_ She’s laughing, her face pink even under the sunburn, and he takes that as the win it is and follows her directions.

She’s still on the bed when he’s dressed up in slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and out of the way. She’s got something going on her omnitool that she closes out the second after he opens the bathroom door, and she gives him a lingering, appreciative once-over that makes him forget his curiosity at what she was doing.

“Going my way, solider?” She arches one eyebrow at him and gifts him with a particularly dirty looking grin, and he warms from head to toe under her gaze.

He offers her his hand, and he pulls her upright from the bed when she takes it. He looks her up and down too, but doesn’t let go of her, just takes in the way the dark material of her dress somehow hugs both her curves and partially obscures her baby bump, finds himself wishing that she’d give in and let them spend another night locked together in the house.

 _Dios,_ he went nearly six months without her, and now he can barely keep his hands to himself for more than an hour at a time… and even that’s a struggle.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking, and she doesn’t even seem to notice that he took too long to figure out what to say because she’s too busy running her fingers up his bare forearm and staring at his chest.

He flexes a little, and she blushes even as she rolls her eyes up at him.

“Okay, then. Show me the town.”

—

No one reacts when they arrive at the restaurant, but Avery’s not sure if it’s because they’re used to seeing James or because they just don’t care about what that particular gossip mag has to say about him.

They just get seated at a private little table without getting any second glances (except for people checking out James, which she doesn’t do anything more than take pride in, because… well, he’s fucking hot, and he’s on _her_ arm) and they order food and they sit and talk over drinks (water for her, unfortunately) with a candle between them to set the mood, like they ever need the mood set.

She runs her bare foot up his leg before appetizers are even cleared away, and she laughs too loudly when he pretends to be scandalized.

What had he expected?

She’s been absolutely waiting to tease him like this for months. She’s not going to pass up the opportunity just because things got a little weird earlier.

They chat aimlessly, about nothing, conversation carefully steering clear of any mention of the gossip, or the surge of irritation she’d felt when she thought he didn’t want to celebrate the holiday, or the weird shadow that her impending return to London is starting to cast on her mood.

So, she teases him as they eat, running her foot up his leg under the tablecloth so many times that he reaches down to grab it once it hits his thigh, holding it in place where it can provide some friction to his cock, hard in his slacks and hidden from the waitress’ view under the table. It’s hard to tell in the dim light in their little corner of the restaurant, but she’s pretty sure he’s blushing, cheeks turning red as his eyes grow dark.

“You’re a monster,” he informs her, voice low, but the effect is dampened somewhat when she makes his voice crack on the last word by successfully pressing against the head of his cock. “A menace, even.”

She arches an eyebrow at him and licks some imaginary sauce off her thumb just to see the muscle in his jaw twitch as he clenches his jaw at her. “Is there a problem I can help you with, Major?”

His response is tempered by his grin and the shift of his hips towards her. “You’re my only problem, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, I can go, if you’d rather.” She starts to withdraw her foot, but his hand is still under the table so he grabs her ankle to keep her close. “No?”

He opens his mouth to respond, pauses to lick his lips, then says, “You keep teasing me like that, something’s gonna happen, birdie.”

The almost-threat sends a thrill through her, makes her wet even though she’s still a little sore from this morning and isn’t totally sure she can back up the way the mood is shifting.

She doubles-down anyway.

“Will I be punished, sir?”

He bares his teeth in a grin that he tries to smother when the waitress comes back to check on them, but he doesn’t release her leg as he asks for the check, and the flush doesn’t disappear from his skin. 

As soon as they’re alone again, he leans in closer so he can whisper across the table: “Do you want to go dancing or not?”

She grins right back at him, expression just as sharp as his. “If you _don’t_ take me dancing after I put this stupid dress on, then we’re _definitely_ not fucking.” A lie, and the twitch of his lips lets her know he knows too. “You just gotta behave and keep your hands to yourself for long enough to get to a club.”

He stares at her, lips parted as he sucks in a deep breath. “You started it.”

She wiggles her fingers at him. “Hands-free, like I said.”

It takes a second for him to start laughing, but it’s loud enough when he does that the closest tables glance over at them. He releases her leg and she tucks her foot back into her sandal, trying to look prim but probably failing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, and she’s had nicer compliments, but she still winks at him and lets the warmth of his words settle deep in her chest. 

The back-and-forth in their relationship is familiar, comforting, soothes over the other weirdness in a way nothing else really can. It’s easier in person than it has been over messages and vid calls, and she’s _not_ going to get upset thinking about going back home, not right now when it would ruin their date.

“I don’t want you to go, you know,” he says, and her heart skitters for a second before she remembers what she said when she still had her foot on him.

“I figured you needed a minute to cool down so we don’t give the restaurant a show on our way out.”

He rolls his eyes and the corners of his lips twist down for a second, and she doesn’t really know _why_ but she doesn’t want him to keep making that face.

The waitress interrupts them with the check and a knowing grin, and James pays before Avery can even open her mouth to protest that she should pay for something this week.

It’s only a few seconds before he’s done and his smile is back, no trace of whatever that displeasure was on his face, just a teasing smile and dark eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

They walk to the club, because it’s not too hot now that the sun’s completely set and it’s close enough to the restaurant that Avery’s not worried about her feet starting to hurt before she can dance. She doesn’t tease him again; there’s no subtle groping as they wait for a traffic light to change, no heated, stolen kisses as they wait. 

He just keeps her hand tight in his, and she tucks herself against his side when they’re not moving, anticipation at being able to dance and tease him until he drags her home to hopefully fuck her against the front door (possibly gently, depending) thrumming through her, and they keep an eye out for photographers.

They haven’t seen any yet, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Avery pays their cover charge and drags James to the dance floor without even letting him get a drink at the bar, the steady thumping of the bass thrumming through her body in a way that she’s missed.

He follows along with her, goes where she directs him, and then her back is against his chest and his hands are on her hips and her ass is grinding against his hips and she can tell he’s getting hard again, because she can _feel_ it, because he’s groaning in her ear as one song blends into the next.

It’s everything she’s been looking forward to; it’s perfect and it’s delicious and she doesn’t know if she wants to keep dancing until the new year rolls in or if she wants him to haul her back to the house right now.

His wandering hands make that decision even harder for her as they constantly follow the lines of her curves, up her body and back down, ghosting over her breasts and dipping dangerously close to the junction of her thighs. She can’t handle the intensity of her reaction to him -- she never has been able to, not even the first time they met and she’d decided right then and there to take him back to her apartment.

It’s a challenge, almost, between them to see who’ll break first, a game of chicken where there won’t truly be a loser. Avery clings to that fact as she spins around and loops her arms around his neck, pulling him down to nip at his lower lip in a bid to make him break first.

He does, because he’s as unable to control himself as she is, and he yanks her from the dance floor and then from the club without even hesitating.

There’s a strong possibility she might die before they get back to the rental house, and James doesn’t make it any better by keeping his body plastered against hers like their sheer proximity will keep him from flying apart.

The taxi is a trial of self-control, one she’s failing, encouraged along by James’ lips and tongue against her throat and one of his big hands sliding up under her skirt where she hopes the driver can’t see. She lets him, parts her legs just enough for him to find that she’s skipped the panties like he likes and has gotten wet enough for it to settle on her thighs, and she hears his moan muffled against her skin before he slips two thick fingers into her.

It’s almost too much, and she’s on the edge so fast her head spins, and James chuckles into her ear as she stares at the back of the driver’s head.

“Think you can be quiet, birdie?”

She nods because she can’t think of any other answer that will get her what she wants, and he nips at her earlobe as he curls his fingers just exactly right. She shivers and clenches around him, her right hand finding its way to his thigh to dig into the fabric of his slacks.

“You know, you’ve been teasing me all night,” James says, voice sounding low and rough in her ear. “Do you think you deserve this?”

Her anger flashes bright even as her cunt clenches around him, giving her away. He chuckles again and slows the motion of his fingers inside her, that press and curl only enough to hold her pleasure steady, not to push her any higher.

“I should make _you_ wait a few hours like you’ve been making me. Maybe until tomorrow morning.”

His fingers keep going, his thumb resting next to her clit but giving her absolutely no pressure at all. Her hips move restlessly, chasing what he’s resolutely denying her, and she turns her head to hiss directly in his ear before she can think about it.

“I’ll get myself off and make you fucking watch.”

He grunts, his hips twitching too, but he doesn’t move his fingers.

“That supposed to get me to do what you want? Sounds more like a reward than anything else.”

“Fuck you.”

James laughs, but he doesn’t have a chance to respond before the taxi pulls to a blessed stop. He pulls his fingers free of her and wipes them on her skirt before he reaches past her to open the door for her. She climbs out and doesn’t look back as she stalks up the path to the house, letting herself in and yanking her dress off over her head the second she’s fully indoors.

It’s worth it to hear James’ rumble of surprise, and when she turns to fully face him with her eyebrows lifted and a challenge on her face, he caves in to her, because he always does, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her the few more steps to put her on the kitchen counter because it’s closer than the bed or even the couch, and he’s desperate for it.

He kisses her as he fumbles with his belt, tongue dipping into her mouth just moments before he manages to free his cock. He doesn’t hesitate here either, just holds her hips steady and pushes into her as a needy moan escapes his lips.

He’s not gentle, and she doesn’t really want him to be, holding onto him with one hand fisted in his shirt at the back of his neck while the other slips between them to rub frantic little circles over her clit.

She doesn’t think he’s going to last long, not with the way he’s panting into her mouth and fucking into her as hard as he can manage, and she won’t be able to keep up with this for long either. Her muscles ache but she can’t stop chasing that high as it makes sweat stand out on her skin and her toes curl and her back arch…

She comes without warning, flying apart with her breath locked in her throat and her grip almost tight enough to tear the fabric gripped there. He groans with her, thrusts speeding up then slowing down, pulled in by her pleasure but not quite at the edge yet, and then her whole body goes slack except for the clench of her muscles around him.

The ache grows deeper, overstimulation and overuse warring for attention, and when she whines in a wordless expression of displeasure, he stills right away, shivering in her grip.

“Birdie?”

“Here.” She pushes him away and he slips free of her, a bereft noise slipping from his lips in a way she’s confident is accidental. He’s trembling all over, still in his shirt and shoes, his slacks down around his knees, and she slips off the counter on shaky thighs and pulls him in for a kiss.

He gives it to her, gladly, fingers clutching too tight at her skin as his cock, hard and wet with her pleasure, presses against her belly.

“C’mere.” She takes his hand and starts to pull him, pausing only long enough for him to kick off his shoes and slip free of his slacks as she tugs him around to the couch. He follows her wordlessly, sinks down when she pushes him, and then gathers her hair up in gentle fingers to hold it out of her face as she kneels down and pulls him deep into her mouth.

He tastes like her, is dripping with it, and she cleans him off before she starts sucking on him in earnest, one of her hands coming up to cup his balls while the other strokes him in time with her mouth.

He starts up a steady stream of words in Spanish, some she recognizes as praises or just expressions of pleasure, others she doesn’t, but she knows he’s close when he starts to guide her head instead of just holding her hair, and it sends another thrill through her even though she’s too exhausted to do more than finish him off right here in front of the open windows and the darkness of the night.

He warns her before he comes, a sharp tug on her hair that makes her moan followed by a heartfelt call of her name, and then he’s spilling across her tongue as he curls around her and holds her close. 

“Fuck, _fuck, dios…”_ He trails off, shuddering, and she swallows and swallows again and when he finally releases her she has to swallow a third time, a result of all the teasing she’d done.

She grins at him and licks her lips, and isn’t surprised at all when he reaches down to haul her into his lap for a wet, messy kiss.

He breaks away and tucks her head against his chest, and she melts around him, holding him tight as he tries to catch his breath. He strokes a hand up and down her bare back, his body still shivering, and she nuzzles as close as she can.

They can’t see the fireworks from where they’re sitting, but they can hear the cracks and fizzles, and Avery giggles without moving.

“Happy New Year, baby.”

She can hear his smile as he says, “Happy New Year, birdie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just wanna shake them and tell them to quit fucking and just talk to each other, you know?


	4. Chapter 4

It’s almost easy to forget everything else, locked in that house with James. It’s easy to pretend she doesn’t have a job waiting for her back in London, that no one will miss her if she just doesn’t go back, that she can just stay here on the beach, enjoy the ocean, play house with James and pretend that everything’s okay.

And things are okay, mostly. There are still articles coming out with pictures of them from when she dragged him out of the house on New Year’s Eve, including one particularly raunchy one from the club, and if she still had a mother to answer to, she might be embarrassed about it.

As it is, she can’t bring herself to really care.

She’s too busy trying to relax, unwinding the tension she’s carried since finding out she’s pregnant with no support system — something she never expected to happen, not ever, because she was always careful about that even when she was being careless with the rest of herself.

She was always careful until she met James.

And now, here she is, stretched out on the sand with her head in James’ lap and her hand on her belly, holding her breath, waiting to see if the little kick she just felt will happen again so she can see if she can feel it from the outside too, because if James gets to feel the baby before she goes back to London, he’ll probably cry a little.

And, well, she kind of wants to see that.

Maybe she’s not that nice of a person.

“Doing okay down there?”

James is pretty studiously playing with her hair, weaving it in sloppy braid after sloppy braid as she soaks up the attention. He’d probably have better luck if her hair wasn’t full of sand and salt, but she’s not going to tell him that yet, because she doesn’t want him to stop.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to see… Ah, shit.” The next kick, or maybe it’s a punch, comes from the opposite side, so she shifts and puts her other hand down there too. “God, she’s already so uncooperative. How my mother did this with two of us at once is fucking beyond me.”

James chuckles behind her, and she glances up at him through her sunglasses to catch his smile. “Think she’ll be stubborn as you?”

“I’d call you an asshole, but I think the odds are against us on that one.” A little kick comes again, and since she’s waiting for it, she can just barely feel it pressing against her fingers. “Gimme your hand.”

He does, spilling her hair across her face as he moves too fast, and she can’t help but giggle a little as she presses his palm against her stomach.

“Okay, wait. Right here.”

She puts her hand on top of his and pushes a little harder, holding him in exactly the right spot, waiting perfectly still as her heart speeds up.

Nothing happens.

“Try talking to her. She likes your voice.”

He doesn’t hesitate, just leans forward a bit and says, _“Mija,_ it’s your dad. Can you hear me?” A pause, then he adds, “Kick your mom once for yes, twice for no.”

Avery snorts indelicately, amusement coursing through her even though she’s actively trying to stay still, and she can hear the laughter in his voice when he keeps talking.

“C’mon, baby girl, you’re not gonna be down here too much longer. Say something while you — holy shit.”

She’s not expecting the rush of emotion that accompanies the little kick against James’ hand, how sharply she reacts to seeing his eyes go all wide and his smile light his whole face. Her eyes fill with tears as he just starts to laugh.

“Oh, _Dios,_ oh my god, hey, baby girl. You’re really in there, huh. Kick me again.”

She does, and he laughs again, and then he looks down to see Avery crying freely, but silently. He moves his free hand to her face, wiping at her cheeks even though the angle is awkward, but keeps the other pressed exactly where it is over the baby.

“Birdie?”

She laughs through her tears, and the noise is wet and gross, and that just makes her laugh more. “Sorry. Don’t look at me.”

“Nah, you’re too pretty not to look at.” He brushes her hair out of her face like he wants to see her better, and she scrubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Avery, uh…”

He trails off, sits up a little straighter, and she does too, pushing herself up and turning a little to face him, one hand in the sand to keep her upright and the other around her belly. Instead of speaking, he cups her cheek and leans forward to kiss her, a slow press of his mouth against hers, one that lingers until she parts her lips under his.

It’s almost enough to make her want to cry again, emotions a little raw after seeing how happy he was at feeling their daughter move, and after he pulls away she tucks her face against his shoulder and just lets him hold her so she can pull herself back together. He rubs his hand up and down her back, not speaking, just… just being there for her.

Like he always is.

Like he always will be?

“Fuck, those _pendejos_ are back.” His whole body stiffens up, his arm tightening around her while his other hand reaches for a weapon he doesn’t have with him. “They got a drone, here, pull the towel up…”

Avery twists to look over her shoulder out at the ocean where, sure enough, a drone is floating, almost definitely taking pictures of them, if not a vid. James is still trying to shield her from its view when she loses patience with the situation and turns enough to lift her right arm at it, throwing a quick Warp at the little machine.

It crushes under the weight of the mass effect field surrounding it, and the whole contraption drops right into the ocean.

“There,” she says, flooding anger drowning out all her other emotions. “Problem fucking solved.”

James is still staring where the drone was, the muscles of his jaw working, and it takes him a second to say, “They can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t know what’s going to fucking stop them. How did they find out where we are?”

He meets her gaze, finally, and she can practically feel the tension boiling off of him. “I don’t know, but I know someone who can find out. We should go inside.”

—

The revelation that he knows the Shadow Broker has Avery sitting silently on the kitchen stool and staring at him for so long that James actually starts to feel uncomfortable, maybe a little guilty for not telling her earlier, but he’s never had to. 

How should he have worked that into conversation? “Hey, birdie, I love you, I want you to live with me in Brazil, and I served for months alongside the Shadow Broker, once time she picked me up with her biotics at a party and I almost got a boner in front of all my COs?”

Maybe not that last part.

The first bit, he definitely should say.

Although, circling back to the part about the stasis field, if he _did_ tell her that, she’d probably do it to him too, just to tease him, maybe to rile him up like she did that one time when they were using the handcuffs…

Liara agrees to do what she can from where she is, and James knows better than to ask more questions, and he tears his mind away from thoughts of misusing stasis fields because Avery’s reading something on her omnitool with an increasingly sour look on her face.

Really, he’d rather see her crying again than making that particular expression.

“Uhh… Birdie?”

She gives him a quick, sharp look, then starts to read aloud: “ ‘James Vega Dating Alec Ryder’s Daughter? We’ve been hearing gossip that Alliance Heartthrob James Vega is off the market! Photographs showing him celebrating the New Year and the good weather with a young woman have surfaced, but no one knew who the mystery girl was — until now. Rumor has it that she’s Avery Ryder, daughter of the disgraced N7 Alec Ryder. You might remember him as the soldier who was dishonorably discharged in 2184 for building an illegal artificial intelligence.’ ”

She stops reading and doesn’t look at him for a long moment, and when she finally does, there are tears in her eyes.

“Alec is well on his way to another galaxy, and he’s _still_ fucking ruining everything. I can’t even—” Her voice cracks, and he’s around the counter and pulling her into his space before he has time to think about it. She’s stiff, leaning against him but not quite holding him back as he tries to calm her down. “I can’t even have a vacation or a fucking… I hate him.”

He kisses the top of her head and rubs her back. She still smells like the ocean. “I know, birdie. I’m sorry.”

“And it’s bullshit, because they’re still calling me by his name, when I’ve done so much on my own, so much more than him and his stupid AI and the stupid Initiative.”

“I know.” What else can he say? At least her body relaxes a bit, leaning harder into him, bringing her arms up to wrap around his waist too. “We can—”

She interrupts him, but he doesn’t think she meant to, and he doesn’t know what he was going to say anyway. “And that sucks too, because if I wasn’t Avery fucking _Ryder,_ then this wouldn’t have happened.” Under her breath, like she’s said it a million times, she adds, “I need a new fucking name. At least then it would take a little extranet searching to get to Alec’s bullshit.”

“Avery Vega sounds pretty good.” His mouth moves without his permission, spilling his secrets, the words he’s been thinking but hadn’t been willing to say yet because he wasn’t sure how she’d react, prickly as she can be sometimes.

If he wasn’t certain about bringing it up when she was in a _good_ mood, what the hell is he doing bringing it up _now?_

She stiffens in his arms, waits a second, and then sits up straight. She keeps her hands on his waist so he can’t move away.

“James.”

He’s stared down reapers; he can do this. He meets her eyes and runs his hands up her arms, then when she doesn’t flinch away, cups her jaw with both of them.

“Avery.”

“What the fuck are you saying to me right now.” She doesn’t pitch her voice up like it’s a question, but he knows it is, he knows the underlying questions there too, the ones she’s feeling in every fiber of her being but will never say out loud.

“Uh…” Okay, maybe this isn’t a conversation to have while he’s towering over her. He lets go of her face and sits on the other stool, settling his weight on it with a little more care than he needs to, because he’s stalling for time, but there’s no way to avoid this conversation now. He’s been wanting to bring it up since he saw her glowering at the airport, and it’s finally going to happen. “I don’t want you to go back to London.”

She blinks at him and raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t look angry or anything, not like she’s about to turn him down, so he settles in to explain his side of things to her.

“You’ve told me about a dozen times that you don’t want me dropping out of N-school--”

“Because I don’t.” Her response is fierce and immediate, like it always has been, so he nods at her so she’ll know he hears it.

“But I don’t want you to be on the other side of the planet. I don’t want you to go through labor alone because I couldn’t get out of Brazil; I don’t want… I don’t want our daughter growing up even for a couple of years thinking I don’t want to see her.”

He hesitates as he says the last bit, because he knows it’s a sore subject for her. It’s one of the main problems she had with Alec before everything happened with her mother, but he’s not saying it to manipulate her into staying. He doesn’t ever want to come to London for a visit only for their little girl not to recognize him because he’s been away for six months.

Her eyes fill with tears like he thought they might, and he winces as he reaches out to take her hands in his. She lets him hold her like that, his thumb stroking over her knuckles, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“When you told me about this, you said you didn’t want to ask me for anything. You’re not asking me. I’m asking _you._ Come live here, with me.” She’s still not looking at him, and her face is slowly turning more and more red, and he doesn’t know what it means so he just presses on. “I found some apartments we could go look at, or get a virtual tour, near the Alliance base and my school, and I really think this can work, birdie. I want to give it a shot.”

He falls silent, finally, and waits.

She sniffs and pulls one hand free to wipe at her nose, but she doesn’t let go of his other hand. It seems like a good sign that she’s still trying to touch him, but he isn’t really sure what to make of the rest of it.

Why is she taking so long to talk to him?

Is she going to turn him down?

“You really want me here in your space all the time? It would be easier to just visit me and a screaming baby when you want to.”

She’s not looking at him, and he pushes past the surge of irritation he feels at her words. It wouldn’t be easier. It would be so much harder for him, for both of them. Can’t she see that?

“I want to see you every day for the rest of our lives.”

She inhales sharply, another wet gasp that makes his heart clench. “You do?” She meets his gaze with a hesitance that’s so different from how she usually looks at him, the self-confidence she usually wears like armor cracked and crumbling.

If he can just convince her he’s telling the truth, he thinks she’ll agree without looking back.

“Fuck yeah.” He pauses as her expression doesn’t shift, and then just goes for it, she knows anyway, has to have guessed it by now, and he’s so fucking tired of _not_ saying it. “I love you, birdie.”

She blinks at him again and then she’s all up in his space, arms around his shoulders and face pressed against his neck. He rocks back on the stool and nearly falls, but he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her as tight as she’s holding him, pressing little kisses to her head as she shakes all over.

He doesn’t really know what to do here, so he tries the only thing he can think of, and just keeps talking. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier…?”

She stands up straight so suddenly that she nearly clips his chin on the way. Her eyes are red-rimmed and wet but bright under all that, a smile almost too big for her face gracing her mouth.

“You love me,” she says, proud, like she discovered a secret and he hadn’t admitted it to her ten seconds ago. “You want to move in together.”

Uh. “Yeah.” He doesn’t know what she’s getting at, exactly, but she looks happier than he’s ever seen her and she’s still got her hands on him, and when she descends on his mouth he doesn’t even consider pulling away so they can finish talking.

He kisses her back because he can’t say no to her, ever, and because he loves her and he loves kissing her, and when she licks at his lips he opens up to her and slides his tongue along hers. He pulls her closer, as close as he can, so their skin is pressed together and he can practically feel her heart beating against his chest.

When he gives in to temptation and starts to kiss along her jaw to her throat, she finally starts to talk too. “I can’t fuckin’ believe…” She trails off and puts her hands on his jaw to direct him to look her in the face. “I love you.”

He can’t help it. He kisses her again as he starts to laugh, just because he’s too happy not to.

He should’ve told her when he picked her up at the airport.

He should’ve told her the first time he thought the words, back in London.

He brushes his hands up her sides, then just rests them on her belly. He doesn’t know if their daughter is moving right now, can’t feel her, but it doesn’t matter. He knows she’s there, and he loves her so much already he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

He knows one thing to do with himself.

“So you’ll move down here?”

“We can talk about it,” she says, but she’s smiling so he knows it’s a real offer, not one to get him to shut up. “I’ll have to put in for a transfer, and by the time that gets approved I’ll probably be going out on maternity leave, so…” She trails off, looking thoughtful. “You’re really ready for all this?”

He’s not entirely sure. He wants to be near her, and he wants to get to know their daughter, and he’s terrified of being a dad and of being a husband and of the possibility of hurting her.

The one thing he knows for sure is that he never wants to let her down, ever.

So, he nods.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid, but I know this is what I want. You, her, _us_ all together. I love you.”

Her cheeks turn a little pinker, but she doesn’t look away this time, doesn’t start to cry again, just holds his face in her hands. 

“I love you, too.”

“C’mere.” He pulls her back to him, hand on the back of her head so she’ll rest it against his shoulder, and just… holds her.

This feels right.

She nuzzles closer, sighing in contentment as he rubs his hand over her back. He knows that she has something to say before she starts to speak because she starts to trace little patterns on his skin with her fingers, probably chasing after the green light she always says she hates but always tries to play with.

“So what was all that about ‘Avery Vega’?”

He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slower than he needs to, drawing out the time he has to answer. It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out, but he knows she wants him to say it out loud, probably wants the whole song and dance and the traditional nonsense that surrounds this sort of thing.

He hadn’t even meant to bring it up, it has just spilled out of him against the storm of her emotions. They should have done the whole ‘I love you’ thing first, then the ‘move in with me’ thing, and then he could have brought up the ‘Avery Vega’ thing.

He did this in the exact opposite order, and now there’s not really a romantic way to ask, because she already knows what’s about to come out of his mouth. She just wants to hear it.

“It sounds good, doesn’t it? Avery Vega…” He trails out the Vs, and smiles into her hair when he feels her giggle in his arms. 

“It’s growing on me.” She nuzzles a little closer like the admission embarrassed her, and he traces his fingers up her spine as he thinks about his next words.

“I told you before, I’m all in. I’ve _been_ all in. I want you and everything that comes with you. I want you to move here, I want you to live with me, and I want you to marry me.”

There.

He said it.

It’s out there, and she’s going to have to decide what she wants to do with it, because it’s so far out of his hands now he isn’t sure what else to do.

She’s silent for a long time, long enough that a coil of dread starts to tighten in his stomach even though she’d seemed so open to the idea before.

Just when he starts to think he’s well and truly fucked himself, she stands up straight and kisses him.

It doesn’t feel like an answer, he can’t pull a yes or a no out of the way her lips are moving against his, but he tilts his head and kisses her back with everything he has in him, kisses her back until her shaking hands start to scratch at his shoulders to keep herself upright.

She’s the one who breaks away this time, but she doesn’t move far, resting her forehead against his. She keeps her eyes closed as she says, “I’m all in, too.”

James stands up and takes her with him, lifting her into his arms as she shrieks and then starts to laugh. He spins her, just once, and then he puts her on the counter and pulls her face to his to kiss her.

He can’t help it.

He never wants to stop kissing her, so he doesn’t try, just stands before her with his hands on her thighs and licks into her mouth like he’s tasting the rest of the words she hasn’t said yet. She’s just as happy to let him, kissing him right back with her legs around his waist and her hands on the back of his head, fingers scraping through the short, soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

He’s just about ready to pick her up and carry her to the bed, lingering tastes and scents from their morning on the beach be damned, when a chime sounds from his omnitool. He reluctantly pulls away, only because he’s waiting to hear back from Liara about what they can do to salvage their privacy, and he lets Avery go to the shower with one last kiss so he can take care of things.

The temptation to just follow her in there is almost too much, but this is slightly more important.

If they’re all in, he’s gotta make sure she’s safe.

—

Avery can’t stop shaking. She woke up this morning with the end of her vacation looming over her, absolutely determined to talk to James about how she felt, and then… he did it for her.

He was the brave one, he brought it up, he asked her to _move here,_ said he loves her, said he wants to marry her — are they engaged now? Is he her fiancé? 

Tears she’d normally never admit to are making her eyes sting, and she holds them back the best she can as she scrubs the ocean off her skin and out of her hair. It’s so long now, but she’s waiting to cut it until she can’t stand it anymore, and James has been extra attentive to it so she knows he likes it.

She finds a thick strand of it still braided as she works in the shampoo, and she half-laughs half-sobs with the discovery.

Christ, she loves him.

They pass each other as she leaves the bathroom, hair (properly) braided so it’ll dry in waves without her having to do anything with it, and James pushes her up against the door frame to kiss her senseless again before disappearing into the shower.

She thinks about joining him, but decides she’ll just surprise him when he finishes up.

It’s easy enough to arrange herself on the bed so he’ll get a full view of her naked body when he walks out of the bathroom, and she props herself up with pillows so her back won’t start hurting and stretches her legs out before putting her right hand between them.

She feels a little awkward like this, tempted to cover herself up with clothes or part of the sheet or even her towel, unused to the extra weight and how her body’s shape is changing.

The only thing that stops her is remembering how James has been reacting so far. It’s not that he doesn’t like it and is ignoring it, he either doesn’t care or actively _likes_ it about her. She’s not sure which, and now isn’t the time to ask, because the water’s shut off in the shower and she knows she just has a couple minutes before he’ll come out to see what she’s up to.

She settles back into the mound of pillows and closes her eyes, lets herself think about what James looks like in the shower with his muscles all flexed (because he knows she likes it, he knows she’ll be watching) and the water dripping off them. She could follow the lines of his tattoos with her tongue, stop to tease one of his dark nipples to a point with her teeth, follow the shape of his abs down to the vee of his hips and take him in her mouth…

Her fingers work fast, the circular motion over her clit one she’s well used to making when she can’t be bothered to actually reach over and grab a toy out of her drawer, and she lets herself make tiny noises as she waits for James to open the door. 

It feels good, and she knows she’s getting wetter as she works herself, but it would be better if James would hurry the fuck up. 

She uses her other hand to cup one of her breasts, kneading it for a second before she starts to pinch at her nipple, and the noise she makes this time is accidentally a little louder, and James might have heard that from the other side of the door but that’s okay, because she’s about two seconds away from just fucking herself on her fingers because patience has never been her strong point.

The bathroom door opens, finally, and she opens her eyes to see James standing with his towel still around his waist and his jaw hanging open. His gaze is locked on her hand between her legs, so she opens her knees a bit more and watches as he snaps his jaw shut and swallows hard. Her gaze snags between his legs too, watching as his cock takes an interest in the show, slowly making its presence known in the form of a growing bulge under the white terry cloth.

She can actually hear him clearing his throat before he starts to speak, so she looks up to meet his gaze in time to catch him tearing his eyes away.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

It’s hard not to smile at that, but she forces herself to pout a little. “You were taking forever in there.”

He rolls his eyes at her and she _thinks_ she hears him call her a brat as he drops his towel right there in the bathroom doorway on his way to her.

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed with a painful-sounding thunk and drags her to him with his hands on her ankles. It yanks her out of her cocoon of pillows and she laughs, delighted, wrapping her thighs around his neck so he can’t pull away.

It’s too hard to look down her body at him now, so she just stretches her arms up over her head and lets him get to work, licking up the mess she made before settling in to make one of his own.

He works her slower than he usually does, like he wants to draw it out, and she leans into it, riding the waves of pleasure as he gives them to her with his tongue and then, after a while, his fingers too. It’s perfect and she grinds against his face even though she told herself she’d stay still, trying to pull her own orgasm out of him practically by force.

It makes him moan against her, and when she twists enough to look at him, she can see the steady motion of his free hand that lets her know he’s working his cock where she can’t see it.

That’s what gets her, that’s the last thing she needs to push her over the edge when he’s already fucking her with his tongue like she’s her favorite treat: the visual confirmation that he’s enjoying this almost as much as she is.

She comes with her thighs locked around his head and his name caught on his tongue, and he licks her through it, holds her against him when the high crest of pleasure starts to fade and she tries to squirm away, licks her until she starts to build up to a second high… and then he pulls away.

He wipes his face and climbs up the bed next to her, leaning down to kiss her when she doesn’t move, tangling his hand in her damp hair to hold her still so he can lick into her mouth and share her taste still on his tongue.

“Scooch.” He pulls at her arms to encourage her to move up from the edge of the bed, back to the pillows, and she helps him as much as she can when he seems determined to arrange her in the most comfortable way possible, propped up a bit by the pillows.

She starts tugging right back when she’s comfortable, yanking until he chuckles from low in his chest and settles between her legs, his body pressed as close to hers as he can.

They won’t be able to make love like this for too much longer. Another couple of weeks and the way he bends to kiss her as he slips inside her wouldn’t be possible, but she just wraps arms and legs around him and moans into his open mouth as he bottoms out, grinding his pelvis exactly right to put pressure on her clit.

He lifts himself up just enough to give himself leverage to start some slow, deep thrusts, one of his hands finding hers and twining their fingers together. She puts her other hand on the back of his head and pulls him down for another lingering kiss, her eyes feeling a bit wet when their lips meet.

Fuck, this is perfect.

Who would’ve thought?

“Oh god, _James…”_

He hits her just right and she clenches around him, shivering, arching her back and calling his name again. He leans into her and bites at the tendon in her neck, sucking a little even though he’s been good about leaving marks so far, and she just giggles and tries to make him fuck into her faster by planting her heels on the mattress and meeting his thrusts with ones of her own.

It works, though he doesn’t let go of her hand, just holds on tighter as he presses his face to her throat and pushes harder into her, just like she wanted, and she holds on as tight as she can manage.

She can’t wait to spend the rest of her with this man.

She comes again with that thought at the front of her mind, James’ fingers around hers and his hair caught in her fist. She whimpers and calls his name and holds him tight, and he tries to fuck her through it, she can tell he tries, but he can’t stop his last few thrusts from pitching him right over the edge too.

He groans and pushes as deep as he can into her, filling her better than anyone else she’s ever been with, and he spills into her because she loves it when he does.

He doesn’t pull out as he calms down, just stays deep inside her and presses gentle kisses all over her skin, everywhere he can reach, then finally gives in and meets her mouth with his when she impatiently yanks on his hair again.

Their kiss is long and lingering, gentle, and she almost wants to cry again when he finally has to pull away. He falls to the side and pulls her body against his instead of letting her move to get cleaned up. He just tucks her head under his chin and holds her close with one hand as his other sweeps soothing circles up and down her side.

She bites her lip to keep her swirling emotions in check, but she’s only able to hold back for a few minutes before she starts to giggle. His hand hesitates in its motion, and she thinks he must be confused, but she can’t stop it.

She’s just so goddamn happy.

“I’m sorry,” she says, words muffled against his chest. “I just… I love you.”

She can feel him relax against her.

“I love you, too.” A pause, then, “You’re really gonna move down here? We’re really getting married?”

She’s still giggling. “Yeah. Yeah, show me those apartments you found, and I’ll put in a transfer when I get back. I, uh, we should make sure we like living together before we get married, I think, but I want to try. I can’t wait.”

He squeezes her in a hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she’s shaking with laughter and squirming to get away so she can breathe.

“I can’t wait either, birdie.” He doesn’t let her go, holding her tight and kissing her between words as she starts to laugh even harder. “I love you.”

She wiggles away, nearly punching him in the face as she escapes his grip. She swoops back in at the last minute, kissing his lips a little too hard. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's all done! I'm going to have one more installment to wrap up their story soon. Thanks for reading! [Scream at me on Tumblr](HTTP://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/).


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